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Untuned the music, and disused the voice? 813
Yet that thy labouring senses may not droop, 847 Lost to delight, and destitute of hope: Remark what I, God's messenger, aver From him, who neither can deceive, nor err. The land at length redeemed, shall cease to mourn; Shall from her sad captivity return. Sion shall raise her long dejected head; And in her courts the law again be read. Again the glorious temple shall arise, And with new lustre pierce the neighbouring skies. The promised seat of empire shall again Cover the mountain, and command the plain; And from thy race distinguished, One shall spring, Greater in act than victor, more than king 860 In dignity and power, sent down from Heaven, To succour earth. To Him, to Him, 'tis given, Passion, and care, and anguish to destroy. Through Him soft peace, and plenitude of joy Perpetual o'er the world redeemed shall flow, No more may man enquire, nor angel know!
Now, Solomon, remembering who thou art, Act through thy remnant life the decent part. Go forth; be strong; with patience, and with care Perform, and suffer; to thyself severe, 870 Gracious to others, thy desires suppressed, Diffused thy virtues, first of men, be best! Thy sum of duty let two words contain; (O may they graven in thy heart remain!) Be humble, and be just. The angel said:— With upward speed his agile wings he spread; Whilst on the holy ground I prostrate lay, By various doubts impelled, or to obey, Or to object; at length (my mournful look Heavenward erect) determined, thus I spoke: 880
Supreme, all wise, eternal Potentate!
ON PART OF THE EIGHTY-EIGHTH PSALM.
A COLLEGE EXERCISE, 1690.
Accursed I am, while God rejects my cry;
Thou that art the God of light.
Downward I hasten to my destined place;
power. 3 Behold the prodigal, to thee I come,
To hail my father, and to seek my home!
Nor refuge could I find, nor friend abroad,
Thou that art the God of love.
TO THE REV. DR FRANCIS TURNER,1 BISHOP OF ELY, WHO HAD ADVISED A TRANSLATION
OF PRUDENTIUS. If poets, ere they clothed their infant thought, And the rude work to just perfection brought, Did still some god, or god-like man invoke, Whose mighty name their sacred silence broke; Your goodness, Sir, will easily excuse The bold requests of an aspiring muse; Who, with your blessing would your aid implore, And in her weakness justify your power. From your fair pattern she would strive to write, And with unequal strength pursue your flight; Yet hopes she ne'er can err that follows you, Led by your blessed commands, and great example too.
Then smiling and aspiring influence give, And make the muse and her endeavours live; Claim all her future labours as your due, Let every song begin and end with you. So to the blest retreat she'll gladly go, Where the saints' palm and muses' laurel grow; Where kindly both in glad embrace shall join, And round your brow their mingled honours twine; 20
1 Doctor Francis Turner was at that time master of St John's College, Cambridge. He was one of the petitioning bishops who were committed to the Tower by James II. and one of those who were afterwards deprived of his see for refusing the oaths to the new government.
Both to the virtue due, which could excel,
TO DR TURNER, BISHOP OF ELY, ON HIS DEPARTURE
Tell, dear Alexis, tell thy Damon, why
See my kids browse, my lambs securely play,
Then stop the lavish fountain of your eyes,